


we're secret agents playing a million parts

by notcaycepollard



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, F/M, I just have a lot of feelings about clothing and the choices they imply, Mention of Daisy kissing Lincoln, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5030506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post 3x03: Coulson and Daisy and the roles they play</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're secret agents playing a million parts

Not wearing suits every day is easier to get used to than he would have thought, Coulson reflects, but he can't lie; it's good to get dressed up once in a while. This isn't the kind of suit he'd wear daily, of course, it's better than that. The last time he wore it was that undercover op with May, he remembers, and man, they have  _got_ to get invited to some nicer places, because it's a terrible thing that he only breaks out his nicest suits for undercover and inter-agency meetings.

Cufflinks, though, cufflinks are always great, and he slides them into his sleeve cuffs, holds his breath as he fiddles with one with clumsy metal fingers. It slots into place after a moment of effort, and this, at least, is a triumph. White shirt, collar unbuttoned just a little lower than strictly necessary, sleek black jacket, a touch of cologne. Rosalind Price appreciates power dressing, sharp tailoring, clothes as intimidation. Coulson can't deny she knows how to wear a pair of killer heels (or that she's got a great car) but wearing his suit like armor, it's exhausting.

"We won't be on comms," he tells Mack and Daisy as he's leaving, "Rosalind has a signal blocker she tends to turn on for these meetings. I guess she likes to keep her own work under the radar even when she's got APBs out for every known Inhuman."

"And we won't be in the restaurant kitchen waiting to spring on you," Mack says, "so, uh, don't get kidnapped by the ATCU, I guess, sir."

"They don't want to kidnap me," Coulson says, very dry. "I'm paying for dinner."

"Enjoy your date with sketchy evil," Daisy says, gives him a considered look. "Hey, Phil?" He waits, sure she's about to warn him again not to trust them, not to trust Rosalind. He gets it, he does, but this is making the best of the situation, and he's hoping working together won't be so bad.

"Daisy?" he asks, carefully bland, when she doesn't say anything for a long minute. She reaches out, touches his cuff, straightens his lapel.

"You look good," she says, and walks away.

 

+

 

"Coulson said to tell you when you got in from mission. He wants you in his office. He's up there with Price."

"Okay," Daisy says, shoving a protein bar in her mouth, "I'll be right up, let me just go change, I've got what feels like half that forest of dirt all over me." She ducks into her bunk, peels off her field suit and leaves it in a heap, takes maybe the fastest shower she's ever had and tugs on jeans, one of her soft flannel shirts. Her hair's still wet, so she pulls it back into a short ponytail, slides her feet into canvas sneakers, takes the stairs to Coulson's office two at a time.

She knocks on the door when she gets there, pushes it open and greets him with a deferential nod. "Director? You wanted to see me?"

"Agent Johnson," he agrees. "Come on in. Rosalind Price, Agent Johnson."

"Oh Phil, it's hardly like introductions are necessary, are they? Although I don't know whether I should be shaking in my shoes about meeting you, Agent Johnson," Price cracks, gives Daisy a long up and down. Daisy smiles, says nothing, waits for Coulson. 

"Rosalind has some questions about Afterlife," he says, and that's easy enough, Daisy thinks. That's  _fine._

"Sure," she says. "Happy to help, sir."

She leaves when they're done, closes the door behind her, goes down to the kitchen because she's  _starving_ after the mission in the forest. Mac and cheese, she decides, that's a good idea, and sticks it in the microwave, jumps up on the bench when it's done and just eats it straight out of the foil carton. Nobody's around to see her. Whatever.

Coulson, of course, finds her when she's halfway through, gives her what's maybe a chiding look for sitting on the bench. She shrugs, keeps eating, and he smiles.

"I'm going to have a beer," he says, "you want one?"

"Sounds good," she says, accepts the bottle from him, eats another bite of mac and cheese. It's just a Kraft dinner, but it's still good. Coulson sips his beer, watches her for a minute, and she can tell he's considering her. "Something on your mind?" she asks eventually, looks up and watches him right back.

"I haven't seen you in that shirt for a while," he says, and she doesn't reply. "You let Rosalind underestimate you today."

"Did I?" she asks, tilts her head to the side.

"You know that you did," he tells her quietly. "Since when have you called me Director. Let alone  _sir_." _  
_

"Phil," Daisy says, pauses to set down her dinner, fiddles with the label on her beer bottle. "It doesn't matter what Price thinks of me. What matters is keeping my team safe."

"And Rosalind underestimating you is a way of doing that," he says. "Letting her think you're just another one of my agents."

"It protects both of us," Daisy says softly, pulls her hair out of the ponytail and fluffs it out around her face. "You know that it does." There's a long pause.

"You're more than my agent," Coulson says, swallows, looks down. "You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah," Daisy tells him. "Yeah, Phil, I do."

 

+

 

No matter how many times he sees it, Daisy in her full field suit is a sight to behold, Coulson thinks. He doesn't usually see her suiting up, isn't usually in the field, but she and Mack are going after Lash with a dozen ATCU agents as back-up. A cross-agency operation means Coulson and Rosalind will be on the ground to oversee the mission, because it's clear that Daisy and Mack and the ATCU agents have about as much trust as a SHIELD/HYDRA reunion tour. It's better than partnering up with Ward, he thinks, but not by much. The atmosphere on the Quinjet is  _icy_ , and they're not even on site with the ATCU team yet.

Daisy's jacket is unzipped while they're flying out, and Coulson lets himself steal little glances at her hair and her set jaw and the shape of her collarbones. "Five minutes until we're at location," he hears the pilot say, and she pulls her jacket together, tries to zip it up, but it's difficult to maneuver with her gauntlets on. She sighs in frustration, starts to tug one off, and Coulson stands up, steps closer. 

"Let me," he says, and zips up her jacket very carefully, brushes her hair away from her face.

"Thanks," Daisy tells him. "But you shouldn't look at me like that, Phil. Not on a joint mission."

"Like what?" he asks, and she squares her shoulders, doesn't reply.

"Ready, Tremors?" Mack says, claps her on the back, and she grins tightly, flexes her fingers.

"Take care, the both of you," Coulson instructs them. "Don't get reckless out there." He knows she'll be safe. He doesn't  _know_ she'll be safe. 

"Don't worry," Daisy says, tosses her hair. "Go keep Rosalind company. You know me, Coulson, I'm never reckless."

"Yeah," he tells her. "I know you." 

 

+

 

When Lincoln calls her, she doesn't expect it. She's  _SHIELD_ to him, surely, and he's run from her half a dozen times. But he's calling her, sounding cautious but not angry, and she knows before she's even thought about it that she'll go to him if she can.

She changes out of her workout gear into old jeans and a simple denim shirt, rolls her sleeves up, ignores how her hands are shaking.

"Phil," she says, stepping into his office, and he puts down the folder he's flicking through.

"You heard from Lincoln," he says, and she nods. 

"You don't- I'm not asking permission, Coulson. I'm going regardless. But I wanted to let you know."

"You're not just an agent one hundred percent of the time, Daisy. I get it." Coulson's eyes sweep her outfit, and she knows he's recognizing the message she's trying to send.  _Daisy, not SHIELD_.  _Just Daisy._ "Do you need to borrow a car?"

"Yeah, I- I'll take an SUV. If that's okay."

"It's your call," Coulson says, gentle, and she feels like she's going with his blessing.

It doesn't make a difference. She asks Lincoln again, just once, if he'll come home with her, come back to base and help her build her team. He frowns, gives her a searching look, presses his hand against hers. "Daisy," he says. "Come with me. You've gotten us false documents, erased us from the system, I've still got some money, let's just take off while we can."

It's late when she gets back to base, and she doesn't expect anyone to be up, but Coulson's sitting on the couch, looking thoughtful, and she sits down next to him, leans her head back, blows out a long breath.

"You could have run," Coulson says, not looking at her. "If you'd wanted to."

"Yeah," Daisy agrees. "I could." She falls silent, pulls a thread from a rip in the knee of her jeans. "If I'd wanted to." Coulson just waits, and she opens her mouth, tries to say it. "I kissed him," she says instead. "Trying to convince him to come in. I kissed him, and then my team double-crossed him, and he ran."

"I know," Coulson says. "I know. Is he safe?"

"Yeah," Daisy breathes. "Yeah, he'll be safe."

"You could have run," he tells her again, and she nods, spreads her hand out across her thigh.

"I could have," she says. "I didn't."

 


End file.
